Just Walk Away
Despite what Ransom had said, you were fully capable of getting a job on your own. And you did. You’d begun applying for jobs outside of Boston the second you got home from that horrific confrontation. And, within a month of you confronting Ransom, you’d already received several offers all over the country. Admittedly, you weren’t a big fan of leaving the East Coast. Sure, LA had been your dream once upon a time, but you knew now that your heart laid on your side of the country. So, instead of picking a job that would’ve required you to thousands of miles from your childhood home, you picked one a little closer. Far from Boston, far from Ransom, but still close. You accepted an offer at a firm in New York City, put in your two week’s notice at Blood Like Wine, and made your preparations to move.
You’d thought it would be more difficult to move than it was. And it was difficult, but in ways that you expected. You knew it would be hard to pack up your life, to wrangle your way out of leases, to find a new apartment, to eventually settle in a new city and a job workplace. You knew that would happen. But, it was easier than you’d thought it would be to just say goodbye to your life in Boston. You didn’t have as many ties to the city as you once thought you’d had. A year ago, you would’ve struggled to say goodbye. But a year ago you had friends who cared and you…you had Ransom. But now? Your friends were looking to drop you soon, and you knew now that Ransom was not yours.
So, yeah, the move was easier than you thought.
Settling in was pretty easy, too. Honestly, your new apartment felt more like a home than your old one ever did. Maybe it was because it hadn’t been tainted by…his presence. Perhaps he was right when he said he had a part to play in getting your last apartment. You remembered touring apartments with him, him cleverly dropping his own name every chance he got in an attempt to let the landlords know that, if they didn’t give you the apartment you wanted, they’d have him to deal with. But this apartment? It was yours. And you got it all on your own. Everything you had in New York was your own. You’d scrubbed Ransom out of your life, for good.
You didn’t think much of him, anymore, if you were being honest. While his words hurt, cut deep, you finally were able to put to rest all of the “what ifs” that had been plaguing you for so many years. Ransom didn’t care for you. He never did. And he never would. You were not his, and you would never be his again. Once upon a time, he had a chance to make you his forevermore. But that moment had long since passed. And he would never really know what he missed out on, because he didn’t know a good thing if it was staring him right in the face.
Life in New York was better. You’d made friends at work—real friends. Not the kind that got annoyed at you for talking to you. The kind that listened, that laughed with you, that went out of their way to include you. The kind that made sure you knew that they appreciated you. And it was because of them that you perhaps met the greatest person in your world.
After a late night at the office, they all were heading down to a nearby bar, and they had invited you to come along. Having nothing better to do, and enjoying their company, you found yourself going along with them. The bar was decently busy—not too crowded as it wasn’t so late into the night, but not devoid of people as people started coming in as they got off work. When you all got there, you were tasked with getting a table while a couple of your co-workers went and got drinks for everyone and your other co-worker ran to the bathroom.
So, there you were, alone at a table while you waited for your friends to return. And that’s when everything changed.
“What’s a girl like you doing alone on a Friday night?”
You turned, and felt your eyes go wide as you looked up at the man who was speaking. He was six foot, at least, with shining blonde hair and pretty blue eyes. He wore a gentle smile paired with a plaid button down and jeans. And he was…Holy fuck, he was—
“Just waiting for my friends to come back,” you said. “But gotta ask you the same thing. What’s a guy like you doing alone on a Friday night?”
“Supposed to be a wingman for my friend, but I think he’s got it handled,” he said, jutting a thumb back at his friend over at the bar who was laughing with a stunning girl. “Figured I could try my own luck with a pretty girl.”
You couldn’t stop yourself from smiling. “Yeah? And who might that pretty girl be?”
“Oh, you know exactly who I’m talkin’ about, angel,” he said. “You’re easily the most gorgeous girl in the whole city, maybe the whole state.”
You felt your face grow warm, giggling as you took in your compliment. Wow, no man had ever spoken to you like this. Never been so forward about their interest in you. You liked it, and you could only hope that he’d keep it up. “You know, if you’re gonna butter me up like this, the least you could do is give me your name.”
“Steve,” he said. “Now what’s your name? It’s only fair I get yours, you know”
“Y/N.”
“Mm, such a pretty name for a pretty little angel,” he said. “So, where’s your friends at, angel? Wanna know how much time I got before they try and steal you away.”
“Oh, they’re—” you turned, looking around before your eyes settled on the three of them at the bar, pointing and grinning as they watched you interact with Steve. “—watching us.”
He followed your line of sight, chuckling. “Looks like we got ourselves an audience. Whaddya say we get outta here, and I take you somewhere nice?”
“And what’s your idea of someplace nice?”
“Well, that’s a surprise, angel. You only get to know if you agree.”
“Promise it’ll be someplace worthwhile?”
“Oh, I can promise you that you’ll love it, angel.” He held out his hand for you to take. “So? Whaddya say? Come with me?”
“I’m yours for the night.” You placed your hand in his, your fingers interlacing together. He grinned, and slowly led you out of the bar. “And, if you’re lucky, you might have me for even longer.”
“Trust me, after tonight, you’ll wanna be mine just as much as I want to be yours.”
He took you a few blocks down to a cute little cafe, sat you down in a booth in a corner and got you both a cup of coffee. You spent hours in that cafe just talking about anything and everything. He was curious about where you were from, knowing that your accent was not that of a typical New Yorker’s, and when you told him that you were from Boston, he wanted to know what brought you to New York. And you told, save for the more personal details, about how you didn’t feel like you belonged in your hometown anymore and, after a conversation with an ex, you knew that the only way you could properly move on was to start all over in a brand new city. He asked about what you did, what you liked, what your interests were. And he listened. He actually listened, showed a genuine interest in what you were saying. And something about that just made you feel so…giddy. Childlike, almost. Like how you used to feel when you’d babble on about something to your mom, and she’d ask questions cause she knew a thing or two about fostering curiosity in children. It made you feel appreciated, and that wasn’t something you’d felt in a long time.
By the time the cafe closed, he had your number and a promise to ask you on a real date, real soon. And he was true to your word. He called you the very next morning, asking about when you were free so he could book a reservation at a restaurant he was so sure you’d love. When that night came, he went all out. Showed up at your apartment in a well-pressed suit, brought you a pretty bouquet of flowers, and didn’t stop complimenting you the whole night. Told you were gorgeous, stunning, a goddess walking amongst men. At dinner, he made sure to open the door for you, gave you his attention the entire night, paid for the meal, made you feel like you were important to him. So, when he asked you on a second date, there was not a doubt in your mind that it was something you wanted.
A second date turned to a third, turned to a fourth, to a fifth, to a sixth—
Yeah, it was going really, really well. But, still, you almost doubted it. After so many dates, after spending so much time together beyond dates, he still hadn’t asked the question you wanted to hear. Should you ask him? But…but what if you ruined everything? What if he wasn’t looking for something serious, even though he’d shown such clear interest in you? What if he was Ran—
No. Stop that.
You tried to push the thoughts out of your mind as you cuddled up to Steve on the couch in his apartment, watching some rerun of a show from the 90’s that Steve said he hadn’t seen yet. But, when you looked up at him, you couldn’t stop yourself from asking, “Stevie, what are we?”
He looked down at you, his brows furrowing together. “Whaddya mean, angel?”
“I just…It’s gonna sound dumb,” you mumbled, looking away.
He titled your chin up so you would look at him again. “Nothing you say is gonna sound dumb to me. Just tell me what you’ve got goin’ on in your mind.”
“I…Do you not…I…” you stumbled over your words, trying to figure out the right way to phrase your feelings. You took a deep breath in an attempt to calm your nerves before finally saying, “I’m just worried that you don’t like me for real since, you know, we’ve been on so many dates but we haven’t made anything official.”
“Oh, angel, I didn’t mean to make you feel like this,” he said. “I promise. I just thought you might’ve wanted to take things slow, but I’ve been wanting to ask you to be mine since our first date. ”
“Promise?”
“I promise. So, what do you say, angel?” he asked, caressing your face in his hands. “Will you be mine?”
You leaned in, your lips brushing over his as you said, “Thought you’d never ask, Stevie. Of course I’ll be yours, if you’ll be mine.”
“Oh, angel, I’ve been yours the moment we met.”